


Brood Tranquil

by voleuse



Category: Halo - Zizou Corder
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28137081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: All the feathered tribes, by gentle sleep subdued.Leonidas adjusts to imperfection.
Relationships: Halo/Leonidas
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Brood Tranquil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katharina_The_Bookworm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katharina_The_Bookworm/gifts).



> Set within and after the events of _Halo_.

They stood almost within full sight of the walls of Athens. Leonidas shifted where he stood, knowing that he could be assessing the defensive barriers (sturdy but insufficient), the surrounding countryside (emptying of the provisions they'd hoped for), or the state of the nearest battalion (worn but alert). He knew his mentor, Melesippus, had been doing so for the entirety of the day's march.

Leonidas, however, felt his attention divided. Even as they had marched, they had heard about Apollo's centaur coming to reside in Attica. And where the Centaur was, so would Halo be. There, within the space of a day, he might find Halo waiting. 

He was certain Melesippus, even as he led the army, was aware of this, of the fissure straining Leonidas's resolve. Just as he was sure--with a thrum of pride--that Melesippus believed him strong enough to overcome that breach.

Leonidas wished he was as confident. 

"Come," Melesippus said, breaking the reverie. "Let us see what battle awaits." He signaled to another officer to take charge, then beckoned Dion to join them. "We venture ahead to Athens."

Leonidas took a deep breath and followed.

***

As they roved, Leonidas was reminded of his training, which seemed so long ago. With scant provisions, they grazed upon nearly overripe fields while investigating abandoned farms. Every once in a while, they'd come upon some hapless citizen, too slow or too stubborn to flee to a fortress with the rest of his neighbors.

Leonidas and his fellow soldiers did what they were trained to do.

As evening fell, as watches were assigned, Leonidas would find a pocket of solitude and look to the horizon. What must it be like, he wondered, to dwell in a single place like this? To watch the trees blossom and gather the olives before they fell. He breathed deep, learning the scent of greenery and rich soil and ever-presence of the sea. 

When smoke and metal and sweat overlay the rest, Leonidas realized _that_ , that smelled like what he thought of as home.

***

They eventually returned to Sparta, for lack of further pillaging. Leonidas felt the march back with a sense of relief--not out of suppressed anxiety, but of frustration. Of waiting for glory that never came.

When he looked upon those just beginning their training, he wondered if they faced the same disappointment that he had.

***

Marching back to Attica, Leonidas found his dreams in metamorphosis. Visions of Halo weren't unusual for him, but in these new ones, she was leaner, almost gaunt. Her eyes were hollow and her lips were an unnatural red.

But still, he couldn't help but feel happy, sitting next to her. And, as the dreams continued, he urged her not to leave.

***

It started with a headache.

At first, Leonidas assumed it was the conditions of their second campaign: persistent heat, variance in supplies, interrupted sleep. Nothing he hadn't trained for, but surely any of those could be factors.

Then the cough. Sharp, grating against his throat, but he thought perhaps it was the dust kicked up. He coughed again, and then the back of his hand was splattered with blood.

No, he thought. Not this.

The pain grew, until Leonidas couldn't deny it anymore. He searched the faces of his fellows, but they all seemed hale, healthy. 

They stopped to rest for the night, Leonidas took first watch. The land around them was empty, he knew. 

He closed his eyes. He walked away.

***

Voices in disagreement. A shift. A heave.

Straw scratching the back of his neck. His legs being stretched out. 

A girl looking down at him.

***

He did not know how long he slept. He was not sure if his memories were true or wishful fabrication.

Leonidas opened his eyes to sunlight, and molded wood, and Halo lying beside him.

Was he still asleep? His reach was tentative, but her skin was warm when he skimmed his fingertips against her chin. He brushed at a short lock of her hair and she murmured in response.

He smiled and realized: He was alive.

***

In the madness of the rescue of Arko, all pantomime and chaos, Leonidas almost didn't notice when he lost his finger. What was one more jagged edge of pain after what the plague had put him through, after all?

After the adrenaline and fever tapered off, however, the lack became more apparent to him. He felt imbalanced in everything he did, as if the plague had tilted him on an angle during its ravage.

He regained health slowly in the Skythian barracks, under Halo's watchful eye and Arko's skeptical gaze. The Skythians, despite having battled Sparta's soldiers for more than two years, bore him no animus. Rather than an enemy, they respected him as a warrior. He found some comfort, mingling in their ranks.

Once he felt well enough to train--more to regain strength than to perfect form--he would venture into the fields after his first meal. He would spar, spear to spear, with Akinakes or Nephiles. 

And he would watch Halo as she practiced her archery. She galloped on horseback, a skill he'd barely perfected (hoplites did not ride). Her aim was true, whether her chosen target was a straw bale or a spooked bird. It was wondrous.

She was wondrous.

***

The famed Skythian guard. The centaur of Apollo. The daughter of Pericles and princess of Amazons.

Leonidas wondered how a simple Spartan hoplite could bear them company. 

He was, of course, a good hand around the barracks as well as the training field. And, he found with some delight, the Molossians took to him readily. He was playing with one of the puppies when he looked up to find Arimaspou watching. 

"You will help with their training," Arimaspou told him, "when they reach the age. Speak to Nephiles." Then Leonidas was alone again with the pup.

To mild chagrin, Leonidas found he had little head for the various theories of Hippias or the herblore of the centaurs. He was, however, a good hand with wounds--every Spartan soldier knew his way around a basic battle dressing.

Even when not at war, Athens had no shortage of injuries. Many days, he accompanied Halo to Hippias's house, where she continued her study of medicine.

One day, he bound a deep cut for a fisherman returned from a storm, having spent a fair amount of time disinfecting the wound. He clapped the man on the back when he finished.

As always, he turned his head to search for Halo. She was out in the courtyard, gently examining a child who had fallen while playing on a low wall.

"Leonidas," she said, noticing him without a task. "Have you ever reset a broken bone?"

He shook his head as he walked over. "I've seen it done, but never done it myself."

"Come here, then," Halo said with a beckoning smile. "I'll show you how."

**Author's Note:**

> Title and summary adapted from [a poem by Alcman of Sparta](https://allpoetry.com/Alcman).


End file.
